The Chef's Choice: The Chef's Choice

“I think that’s unlikely.”

“I don’t trust him.” Cady reached out for a chip. “Why would a guy like him come all the way up here to work? You know the stories—he dates fashion models and pop tarts. I can’t imagine Grace Harbor’s going to thrill him.”

“Maybe he’s grown up. It can happen, you know.” Amanda gave her a bland look.

“All right, all right, I get the point,” Cady grumbled. “But he’s got to be costing you a fortune."

“Not as much as you’d think. We’ve caught him at a good time. And he’s got big plans for the Sextant."

“For now, anyway.” Then again, as much as she desperately wanted her parents’ inn to succeed, Damon Hurst couldn’t be gone soon enough for her peace of mind.

“We need him, Cady.” For once, there was no humor in her father’s voice. “We’re in a deep hole. We need all the bounce we can get from him and if you don’t trust him you’d better hope that you’re wrong and Nathan and Descour are right. We need you to do everything you possibly can to make this work."

“But—”

“We’re not asking you to marry the man, just keep a civil tongue in your head,” Ian shot back, temporarily silencing her. “If you can’t do that much, then just stay away."

Cady looked at them both and sighed. “Of course I’ll help however I can. I think you’re both nuts but if Damon Hurst is what you want, Damon Hurst is what you’ll get. God help you,” she added.

“Tell me again why having a gorgeous man who’s a fabulous chef and a celebrity working at your parents’ restaurant is a bad thing?” Cady’s best friend since childhood, Tania Martin, peered at her from the other end of the couch.

Cady scowled and scooped up some sesame chicken from one of the myriad takeout containers that littered the crates-and-boards combination that could charitably be called her coffee table. It was their weekly movie/gossip/junk food night, or at least Tania’s.

Cady believed in eating junk food as often as possible.

In a crowded room, nobody would ever have picked the two of them to be friends. Unlike tomboy Cady, who pretty well lived in jeans and a T-shirt, Tania kept on the cutting edge of hip with her black spiky hair and tinkling silver jewelry and her scarlet—or sometimes blue—nails and lips. They’d known each other since second grade and were as close as sisters.

“Why is Damon Hurst a bad thing?” Cady repeated, sprinkling soy sauce over her chicken with a free hand. “He’s irresponsible. He’s temperamental. He got fired from his TV show and from his restaurant for not taking care of business. He makes scenes. You, of all people, should know because you’re the one who told me about all of it."

“Besides all that.” Tania crunched into an egg roll.

“Besides … Tania, the guy got caught boinking one of his customers in his office—by the woman’s husband. You want to tell me again how you think him being here could in any way be a good idea?"

“Okay, so he has some rough edges,” Tania allowed, forking up some fried rice. “Anyway, that boinking story was from years ago. Maybe he’s past it by now."

“God help us if he’s not.” Cady squeezed a dollop of hot mustard out of its packet and swabbed her egg roll in it.

Tania watched her a minute. “Do you know you’ve probably burned off every taste bud you were ever born with by now?” she asked as Cady tore open a second packet. “How can you eat that stuff?"

“Puts hair on your chest.” Cady bit into the egg roll with a little hum of pleasure.

“Just what I’ve always wanted. Anyway, back to Damon Hurst—and I expect an introduction to him at the first possible moment, by the way—what are you going to do?"

Cady aimed the remote at her DVD player moodily. “Not much I can do. Mom and Dad seem to think he’s the answer to their problems."

“And you don’t agree. You know you’re only prejudiced against him because he’s good-looking."

“I’m prejudiced against him because he’s trouble. He’s one of those guys who thinks he can get anything he wants."

“Can he?” Tania asked curiously.

“Watch the movie.”

“It’s just previews.” Tania turned to face her. “This is much more interesting. Come on, what’s he really like?"

What was he really like? “A charmer, like it’s second nature. He knows exactly what to say and how to say it. He’s got this way of looking at you so that even when you’re ready to strangle him all you can do is just stand there staring up at him like an idiot."

Tania became very still. “'You’ like hypothetical or ‘you’ like you?” she asked carefully.

“Do I look like an idiot?”

“I’ll pass on answering that just now.”

“He’s so cocky, he thinks he’s God’s gift and he can get you to do whatever he wants you to. ‘This could get interesting,’ my ass,” Cady burst out in frustration. She sprang up from the couch and began pacing.

Tania just watched. “You’re getting awfully excited about a guy you hardly know."

“It doesn’t take long with him. I mean, he leans in and gets right in my face, deliberately, when he knows I’m pissed about him. And he does that thing with his eyes—“

“What thing with his eyes?”

“Like he wants to eat you up,” she responded, moving restlessly to the window. “Like you’re the only person in the world. And he makes you want to believe it.” It was irritating. Beyond irritating, infuriating.

“Let’s go back to the ‘eat you up’ part,” Tania ordered. “You mean he tried to kiss you?"

Cady stopped and flopped back down on the couch. “Give me some credit, will you? I would have stopped that one way before it ever happened."

“Why?”

“Why?” she repeated.

Tania forked up a dumpling. “You ask me, you could use kissing. How long has it been, anyway?"

“You know how long it’s been.” Cady took a drink of her Coke. “Since Ed Shaw."

Tania stared. “Ed Shaw was what, three years ago? Cady, sweetie, you’ve got to get out more."

“Maybe I don’t want to,” she retorted. “I mean, it’s fine for you. You’re gorgeous, you’ve always got guys after you. It doesn’t work that way for me."

“That’s because you scare ‘em off with that mouth of yours.”

“Maybe I want to scare them off. Maybe I just don’t want to deal with it.” She didn’t want the nerves, didn’t like the anticipation, despised that feeling of having it suddenly matter whether some guy called or not. And having no control over whether or not he did. Somewhere along the line it had just become easier, more comfortable, less nerve-wracking to avoid guys altogether.

“I think you’re nuts,” Tania pronounced. “I mean, what about Denny Green or Stan Blackman? You’ve had guys interested in you before."

“Not the ones I wanted interested.”

“Maybe that’s because you chose the ones who wouldn’t be.”